I Know You Of Old
by Lailariel
Summary: Beatrice and Benedick are perhaps Shakespeare's most delightful couple - equally matched in every way, including fury and stubbornness. Revel their merry war in a more intimate setting than the play allows, and delight in how love conquers all every time.
1. Act I: Scene i - Beatrice

Act I: Scene I (Beatrice)

Location: Messina, a chamber in Leonato's House

I have shared a bedchamber with my cousin, Hero, for as long as I can remember. Even when my worthy parents were alive, we spent more merry months at my uncle Leonato's home than we did at our own. And since that sad hour when my mother died of consumption, and my father followed her of what I swear was a broken heart, I have spent the long watches of the night listening to the soft, measured breathing of my fair, dainty cousin and watching the fires of fair Messina flicker in the rolling valley below our chamber window.

Rarely has there been disturbance of our peaceful life in Don Leonato's home. In fact, as loving and good as my uncle is, and as gentle and virtuous as my cousin is, though, our quiet existence is occasionally so peaceful as to drive even the most holy of hermits to the point of violent insanity. Thankfully, the tedious monotony is oft broken by the passing company of various military men, who invariably stop to dine with their old companions-in-arms, Don Leonato and his brother, Antonio. My uncles' hospitality is legendary, and no poor officer awaiting quarter-day would dream of forgoing the pleasures of fine dining, fair company, and joyous revelry whenever chance allows them to partake. My cousin and I have often remarked how welcome we find the sight of well-cut regimentals, regardless of the cut of the figure within them.

Tonight, though, our thoughts run on military lines for a very different reason. The fires flickering in the distance tonight are not of Messina's hearths, but of battlefields. As Hero and I cling to each other in the darkness, I cannot tell the difference between the pounding of my heart and that of cannon-fire echoing in my ears. Hero is praying fervently between the sobs that she cannot withhold, and I know she thinks only of Claudio, the young lord who has only recently captured her heart. I join her in her whispered Aves, but my thoughts lie elsewhere - with a certain tall, dark haired gentleman who begged of me a kiss before he left for battle and was paid only in disdain. Why was I so angry with Signore Benedick that day, that I denied such a noble gentlemen a salute farewell before going into an engagement he may not survive? As I bury my face in my pillow to drown out the distant sounds of war, I cannot remember. I can only wish with all my soul that I might see him again, living and hale and laughing at me as was ever his wont.

The dawn rises brilliant and glorious, as though laughing in the face of such a horrible night. At the sound of a messenger's hoofbeats upon the road, Hero and I run to meet my uncle before the house even half dressed as we are. The news is better than we could have ever hoped for - losses were few, and no men of rank. Hero's darling Claudio has apparently made much of himself in the battle and has earned great favor with his prince. This is enough to set my cousin's eyes dancing with glee, but her joy cannot be contained when my uncle informs us that the prince and his officers will break their fast here before returning to their company. Before she can drag me back into the house to finish our toilets, I make excuses to get information out of my uncle about Benedick - some such nonsense about eating his kills and decrying his wits…how has it come to this? I wonder. There was a time once when…well, no longer. It is enough - he is well, he is noble, he is a good soldier, and he is coming with Claudio. And neither my uncle nor my cousin suspect the truth of my asking.

Were you jealous, Benedick? Was that what caused the rift that suddenly appeared between us? I never meant to hurt you when I received the Prince's attentions, for what choice did I truly have in the matter? What maid of my station and situation could dare ignore so lofty a lord's notice when it is given to her? Particularly when you have refused to declare yourself for all these long years! I deserved neither your rage nor your coldness. And perhaps you likewise did not deserve my censure, but it will not be I who makes the first steps towards amends. I will not risk being dealt such injury by you again until you prove yourself reformed. Though, if our "merry war", as my uncle deems it, continues much longer, I shall have to find a larger box for the many unsent letters hidden in my dressing table. . .


	2. Act I: Scene i - Benedick

Act I - Scene I - Benedick

Location: Messina, outside Leonato's house

I don't think the gates of paradise itself could be more welcome a sight than those of Don Leonato's house. After such a month as my company had just endured, the prospect of full bellies and warm beds was enough to bring my hardened warriors near to tears. Leonato's welcome of my prince, Don Pedro, is everything that could be wished for; but that has ever been his way. I've never known Leonato but that he has been the kindest and most generous of men. His daughter, Hero, has grown much since I had last seen her - the fair, elegant woman who greeted us with such warmth and sincerity is a far cry from the wispy slip of a girl we had left behind. But where, where…?

"I wonder that you will still be talking, Signore Benedick. Nobody marks you."

Ah, there! My heart leaps! But no, I remember, we had fought. I had been harsh - she had been cruel. Even now as Beatrice stands so near, I want nothing more but to sweep her into my arms. Has she always been so tall? So breath-takingly beautiful? But no, I will not risk my heart so easily again. Not to you, dearest one, who was so willing run at the slightest hint of foul weather, so willing to entertain the suit of another. . . But perhaps I need not fear - or hope! - for such a chance. It is as plain as the luscious lips on her face that there is not a mark of love for me left in her. Her eyes are bright with wrath, not love; her brow is creased with anger, not worry; her tongue is quick with words of utter disdain - even the most hopeless fool in love could not twist them to a double meaning. Ah, my darling girl, how hard it will be to be so near you, and yet be forced to hide away my heart where you cannot harm it. I can only pray for a swift visit and a quick return to the field, where I might finally forget you.

"It is certain I am loved by all ladies, only you excepted," I reply airily to some jab of hers. "And I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none."

Sometimes I astound even myself with how easily lies trip off my tongue. She must sense the falseness of my words, though, for immediately her playful mockery becomes pointed and derisive. But this Beatrice, with her disdainful smile and poniard wit, is familiar to me even if the entrancing figure and captivating countenance is not. We fall into the old familiar dance of belittling banter, and as ever she emerges the victor. I am surprised, then, and more than a little disappointed when she suddenly retreats before a weak thrust of mine. "A jade's trick" she accuses me of - indeed it was, my darling! Why then wave a white flag of surrender? The appearance of the two princes explains her sudden reluctance, though, and I am unwillingly forced to surrender myself to their company without even bidding my fair lady adieu.

My prince informs us we will stay a month at Leonato's, perhaps longer should some occasion detain us. It is fortunate we are in company as he speaks these words, and that he quickly departs with Leonato afterwards, for I am most strongly tempted to do him violence. A whole month tormented by the nearness of a Beatrice I cannot hope to have? I would rather return instantly to the field of war, or embark on a hard march to the far reaches of the Orient! Poor Claudio must bear the brunt of my discontent, and he could not have chosen a worse topic of conversation had he been able to divine my thoughts. Love Hero, says he? Love her dowry, rather, says I. I swear he never even marked her when last we came to this house, and now he is wallowing in misery at the mere sight of her figure. I cannot remember that she spoke two words together at our arrival - how can I now be expected to express an opinion of her? Perhaps demure dumbness is an attractive quality to some, but when given the choice between Hero and her lively, brilliant cousin who would choose the former? Claudio, apparently - the idiot.

My prince returns to seek us, and he is all mirth at Claudio's melancholy disposition. Alas that hearing the cause of Claudio's despair should inspire Don Pedro to side with my companion rather than me - has my railing against the office of marriage been so constant that none now should take mine objections seriously? For all that Hero is, I am sure, a worthy lady, we none of us can be assured of her suitability for Claudio when they have yet to speak to each other. My protests of the lady, of Claudio's suitability for marriage, of the desirability of marriage itself, all fall on deaf ears. Perhaps I word them too cleverly, deliver them too strongly - or perhaps they will not be crossed regardless of my delivery. My prince shows more joy at the prospect of arranging a marriage than he has in many a month of arranging war, and Claudio…well, the poor lad has earned the right to indulge in thoughts of love, I suppose. Better that then dwell on the lives his heroics in the field have altered forever. I would never admit such reflections, though, and take my chance of escape as soon as may be. Let them plot and plan to their heart's delight; my heart takes no delight in hearing it.


	3. Act I: Scene ii - Beatrice

Act I: Scene ii - Beatrice

Location: Messina - The Dining Hall of Leonato's House

I cannot help but smile as Leonato bustles past the open door for the third time in as many score a minutes. Nothing is ever too much trouble for his guests, no matter who they may be, but to be entertaining two princes! And so many fine gentlemen! It is enough to set his gracious heart aflame. Hero and I have been tasked with arranging this first night's banquet, and my good uncle has had to be bodily thrust from the hall multiple times lest his anxious attentiveness undo all our hard works. I stifle a snigger as he collides with his own brother, Antonio, and the two of them enter into earnest conversation over some detail of the music Antonio's son will provide after supper. For yes, there will be dancing this eve! I know Leonato's heart well - while he loves companionship for himself, he is eager that both his daughter and niece be shown to the greatest advantage in such exalted company. He ever desires the finest in life for us, and no doubt he holds great hope that matches will be made for both of us in the next month.

But I want none of his matchmaking, sweet man though he is. The one man I would want does not want me, and no man deserves to be constantly measured against an impossible standard. What kind of wife would I be, who ever wishes her husband were another man? No, since Benedick is lost forever, then a merry spinster shall I remain, for the good of all Messina.

And lost he must indeed be. So cold he was at our meeting - so arrogant! "Dear Lady Disdain," indeed! To imply that I would beat my husband! That my wits and my tongue would be enough to deter any man from loving me! What opinion must he have of me, to say such things aloud? How did I hurt you so much, Benedick, that you should so much want to hurt me? Never have I wished harm to anyone, but Benedick! How can one be so handsome in both body and mind, and yet make me wish to claw his eyes out at every encounter? I cannot bear to think of it any longer. I will get down on the floor with the maids and scrub the floor like one possessed if that is what it takes to forget. Hero may laugh and think me strange, but what else can I do when I hear his merry laugh echoing in the courtyard? Oh, if only they would all go back to war!


	4. Interlude - Act I: Scene iii - Conrade

Act I: Scene iii (Conrade)

Location: Messina, A room in Leonato's Home

My prince, Don John, is in one of his fits of melancholy. He is ever this way when his brother finds favor with the lords - it is a bitter reminder of the sad place he holds in life. Don John is only ever welcomed by his people as an afterthought - it is Don Pedro they must lavish their attentions on in the hopes of currying favor. Though Don John is indeed the elder brother, and in my mind the superior in every way, he may never sit upon the throne by the sad accident of his birth. How like his father my prince looked upon his horse this fortnight, leading men into battle with the grace of a Ceasar! How noble! How courageous! And now how pitiful as he sulks in his chambers at Leonato's house whilst the rest of the company enjoys the fruits of Signore Leonato's bountiful larder. My stomach pains me at the thought of so much missed enjoyment, but my heart is the sadder at my prince's misery.

He forgets so easily that it is only by his brother's favor that he may enjoy the benefits of his station at all - and that be only of recent development since the death of Don Pedro's worthy mother. What good will it do for him to cross Don Pedro, for even the smallest of matters might have the largest of consequences when his position is so uncertain. Yet he will not hear my pleas of moderation and consideration - Borrachio's drunken entrance and slurred news excites my prince's stagnant intellect into action. I want to beg my prince to use caution, to ensure that word of his meddling in the affairs of Claudio and Hero might never reach his brother's ears, but of what use would that be? I shall simply have to follow along; two steps behind, his loyal footpad. Perhaps I will be able to do him some good service in such a way. He could be such a noble lord if only he would take the pains necessary to achieve greatness. I fear me he may never be.


	5. Act II: Scene i - Benedick

Act II: Scene I (Benedick)

Location: Messina, The Garden of Leonato's House

Don Pedro and Claudio have come up with some hare-brained scheme in my absence to woo fair Hero between them. What nonsense - and I would have told them so, had they seen fit to share their confidence with me. Has no man an ounce of sense when his thoughts turn to those of love? The plan is rife with the possibility of treachery, and no doubt someone will mistake Don Pedro's intent before all is done. Why must my prince woo fair Hero _for_ Claudio? Cannot Claudio do his own wooing? The man has a handsome enough figure, a strong voice, and a decent wit - surely such meagre gifts may suffice for him to win the heart of so young a maid as Hero. But they wish to make good use of the masque ball for such enjoyment, and who am I to say my prince "nay"?

Beatrice is in fine form this evening - no mask could ever conceal her sparkling wit. She flits about the room with all the liveliness and grace of a butterfly, leaving a trail of laughter and merriment in her wake. I cannot stay away; I am drawn into her presence like a moth to a flame. There is a turn in the dance, and suddenly we are partners. Does she know me? I cannot tell. My company have all chosen to attend the masque in like costumes, and it is rather frightening how easily one's self can be lost in a crowd. She is all sweetness and politeness, but there is none of the fire in her eyes that I so love to see. I cannot help myself - I tease her with false rumors merely to watch her spirits rise. It is both humbling and unsurprising that she credits my true self as the source of these rumors, and at last I have the chance to get the truth from her unsuspecting. Pray, lady, what do you think of Benedick?

"Why, he is the Prince's jester," she replies easily. "A very dull fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but his villainy."

So I am a fool, Beatrice? A villain? Don Pedro's toadying footpad? Have you not confused me with Don John's miserable excuses for comrades in Conrade and Borrachio? And as to slanders…How can you know me so well, dear girl, and yet not know me at all? What slander have I ever spoken of you?

And libertines! How can you, of all women, accuse me of falsity? Were you not the one who entertained the suit of another, being liberal your affections and playing me for a fool? Well may you call me one now, I suppose, for indeed I was foolish to believe you when you said you loved none but me. My wit deserves no commendation, indeed, for it has proven a poor judge where women are concerned.

Do you know me in this guise, Beatrice, that you say such things to me? Or worse yet, do you not know me and speak of me ever thus to perfect strangers? Your words are like poniards, stabbing straight to the heart. I'm bleeding anger, confusion…betrayal… What can you hope to gain from all this, Beatrice?

The dance turns again, and she is gone - laughing at me, no doubt, as she goes. Would that she were other than she is, but as she is, I could not marry her though she were endowed with all Adam had before he transgressed. Beatrice she may be, but beatific she is not.

My prince finds me in the crowd to tell me of his success in wooing Hero for Claudio. I suppose I should be comforted that at least one of us has found pleasure in this evening. Still, I yet greatly dislike this underhanded dealing of the Prince and Claudio; such mischief cannot come to good ends. 'Twould be much better were Claudio to do his own wooing.

It worries me still further, though it surprises me not, when Claudio takes my jesting in serious fashion and is quite willing to believe the Prince has deceived him and woos Hero now for his own. What manner of man is my young comrade that he will surrender so easily and sulk away quietly, rather than fight for his lady love? Certainly, the man cannot be so much in love as he protests. Therefore, I pity him not, and feel no need to tell him the truth.

Beatrice is hot on my prince's heels, but I will have none of her. How can I look her in the eyes, knowing now what she truly thinks of me? No, I will flee. Why, despite it all, do I still feel as though I can barely tear myself away from her side?


	6. Act II: Scene i - Beatrice

Act II - Scene ii (Beatrice)

Location: Messina, the Garden of Leonato's House

Of course I knew it was Benedick as soon as we began to dance - how could I not recognize that well-loved voice, even when it speaks such words of disdain? At the risk of sounding the most conceited girl that ever did know the power of her own beauty, only Benedick could hold me in his arms to dance and yet only think to accuse me of studying my witticisms out of books.

I know Hero is certainly the lovelier and more ladylike, but I know I cannot be so unattractive to men as Benedick claims I am, for the prince, Don Pedro, remains as captivated as ever he was. Indeed, he seemed right gleeful when Benedick fled into the house when I approached them with Claudio, and took my moment of melancholy as an opportunity to press his own suit once again. Perhaps he was simply in the practice of wooing, having just completed his pursuit of Hero on Claudio's behalf, but he was quite happy to construe even my clear request for a less well-titled suitor as fishing for his particular attentions.

Finally, out came those words I have been dreading these many a month. A year, perhaps? So long…so long we have been fighting, Benedick.

"Will you have me, lady?"

No, no, Don Pedro, I want none of you. I have no wish to be a queen, except perhaps in the heart of some worthy man. To receive your attentions is indeed a great honor, but the cost has already proven to far outweigh any gain. And so I shall put you off gently, as ever I have done, and hopefully this time you will see that I am indeed in earnest.

Thankfully, my uncle sees my discomfort, and gives me the means to escape with an imagined errand. I am happy to run away as swiftly as may be, from both the prince and my own tumbled feelings - it would, of course, be my misfortune to run straight into Benedick?

Does he see the tears I am barely able to hold back? He always seems to know me better than I indeed know myself - can he tell how much I want to throw myself into his arms and hide away from the world forever? I feel his hands upon my shoulders, steadying me, gathering me towards him. I see his eyes flicker from my face to something behind me, something that makes flames flicker in those blue tempests that hide beneath dark lashes. He pulls his hands away as if burned, and brushes past me without a word. And now the tears will not be restrained, and I must flee before mine reputation as the merriest woman in Messina be ruined.


	7. Act II: Scene iii - Benedick

I have been seeking solitude all this day in vain, for whenever I do find it even mine thoughts will not leave me alone. Last night's festivities wrought my fears to a fever pitch. Don Pedro did indeed press his own suit last night; not to Hero, as Claudio feared, but to Beatrice, as I have feared since that fateful day last summer when...

I have criticized my companion Claudio for not seeking the hand of his fair lady on his own, but am I not a pot calling the kettle black? The only man among us, it seems, is our prince. Having been once burnt, I am unwilling to risk love again unless I am certain of success - and surely, no woman is worth pursuing with reckless abandon unless she be fair, wise, virtuous, mild, noble, a boon companion…just like Beatrice…

What caterwauling is this that reaches my ears? Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio have invaded the orchard - naturally, since I have spent all morning assiduously attempting to avoid them, they have gravitated towards every hiding place I have found - and brought with them a wailing banshee. What blithering nonsense is this that the man sings? "Men were constant never?" So it is an inborn trait of the masculine sex to be inconstant, so universal that we all agree to its truth and celebrate it in song, and women must simply put up with such behavior? On the contrary, it would seem that it is _women_ who are ever bending with the breeze - if I could find a constant woman I would cling so fast to her she'd have no need to make "sounds of woe".

"What was it you told me of today, Leonato? That your niece Beatrice was in love with Signor Benedick?"

But this is even less believable than the damnable song! Beatrice professing love for me? Were it not so early in the day I would believe these fools had been in the wine cellar. Surely my prince cannot have heard aright.

"O God! Counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it!"

Leonato's voice - an odd turn of phrase for the old man. He is usually not so forceful, nor so repetitive.

"You amaze me!" - Indeed, my prince. I, too, am amazed you would entertain such nonsense. - "I would have though her spirit would have been invincible against all assaults of affection!" - The first piece of decent wit I've heard spoken yet, and yet, clearly, you understood nothing of Beatrice's response to your _assaults_ last night. - "Has she made her affection known to Benedick?"

The charade they embark upon for what is clearly my benefit is both amusing and worthy of the highest ridicule. An' were I _truly_ Beatrice's champion, I should lie the gauntlet at Claudio's feet for insinuating such nonsense as he does about my darling girl. Tearing her hair out, indeed! Beating her breast and rolling on the floor with passion! Has Claudio observed Beatrice for even five minutes on end? I'm sure she does pray for patience with me on a nightly basis, but not out of some unrequited passion - except perhaps of hatred. She is as likely to do "a desperate outrage to herself" over my lack of wooing sighs as Hero is to perform a jig upon the dining table.

Claudio claims that knowledge of Beatrice's love would only inspire me to torment her, to make sport of her. I know not what makes my blood boil hotter; this accusation, or the Prince's mention of his desire to wed her. For all their sad wit, though, their last comments at least can be no trick - Beatrice's affections for me, and her fear of letting them be known, have been so truly proven to them that they feel naught but pity for her and disdain for me. Such damning praise I have never endured as poured forth from their mouths so freely.

On the contrary, my good men - were Beatrice in love with me, I would be most horribly in love with her! I have only railed so long against marriage because the one woman I knew who was fair, virtuous, and wise would have none of me. But how different she would find me were I sure there was even the barest hope of rekindling her affections! I know that I have been proud and horrid, but happy are they who can hear their detractions and mend! I have so long believed I would die young and a bachelor on some barren battlefield, but how willingly I'd live if I could be married and people the world with the fairest lady yet living!

Love me, Beatrice! Give me but the smallest hope you love me despite all, and I shall willingly forget the pain of every arrow you've thrown at me.


	8. Act II: Scene iii - Beatrice

Something is terribly wrong with Benedick. I have no other explanation for his behavior just now in the garden. Certainly, mine attitude warranted no such courtesies as he bestowed.

I was bid - nay, commanded - to call him in to dinner by my uncle, who was curiously insistent that I must be the one to do the deed when Hero was quite willing to take my place. Even in the midst of her great joy at her betrothal, my sweet cousin had been anxious to learn the truth of my disappearance from the festivities. After much gentle persuasion (and some ungentle - even Hero is not above using cunning ways on occasion), I confided the whole of the sad tale to my sweet cousin last night, and her generous heart was full of sympathy. We both found my uncle's determination quite irksome, to say the least.

But so I went to the garden, and there I found Benedick in the most curious state of pensive lassitude. He lay stretched along a bench under the linden tree. The golden evening sun cast such odd shadows upon as to make it seem to me like the careful years had melted away and I beheld not my age-old tormentor, weary and battle-hardened, but the handsome, sweet suitor who used to warble serenades beneath my window in the moonlight until my uncle cursed him for his poor singing. Though his frame was utterly relaxed, his brow was creased in that endearing way that spoke of a mind whirling madly. I might tease him about having all the intellect of a plodding machine, but Benedick's wits were always the of the sharpest - the only worthy blades to test mine own against. What problem was he working so furiously upon now? I wanted nothing more in that moment but to smooth the determined wrinkle between his brows and run my fingers through that riot of golden-brown curls. How treacherous is my heart, to desire things it cannot hope to have.

At the sound of my coming he sprang to his feet, and for a brief moment looked for all the world like a child caught with his hand buried in sweets he was forbidden to eat. I quite expected his manner to change to one of bitter coldness when he perceived who it was that stood before him - certainly, he was all ice and cold steel last eve. I therefore knew not how to speak when the perplexity in his face melted away into the most brilliant smile that seemed to radiate from his very soul. I never thought to see that smile again, and the sight of it now is quite terrifying.

My mouth opens and closes several times before I finally hear words emerge. "Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner." _Against my will_? I suppose we have always been brutally honest with each other, though what purpose I had in including such explanation I know not.

His gentle words of thanks, accompanied with treacherous steps closer and closer, set my heart from fluttering to racing dangerously. I must stop him, somehow, before he comes close enough to learn the truth. When did I lose control of this encounter? I must take back the reigns somehow, before I mistake his odd mood for sincerity and commit some indiscretion I will later regret... I must…

Insult him. Repeatedly. Vehemently. And flee! Quickly!

Oh, how I do hate him! Almost as much as I do hate myself!


	9. Act III: Scene i - Beatrice

Act III - Scene One

Location - Messina, the dining hall of Leonato's house

I can only thank my lucky star that Benedick has departed the hall immediately upon finishing his dinner. I know not what I would say to him had he stayed to exchange pleasantries after supping. I am quite sure I made enough of a fool of myself during the dinner, for I could hardly look in his direction without feeling my cheeks redden with fire unbidden. I am not sure who I spoke to, nor two words that I said, through the whole of the meal. Now that he is gone, I find I am conversing with the Prince and Claudio, who are all laughing courtesy and easy companionship.

My maid Margaret is lurking in the corners, though, with her eyes all aglow. She never can keep a secret, the foolish girl. She is hardly subtle about her desire for my attention, and I am ready to box her ears when I finally tear myself away and she very humbly begs to tell me that she "did overhear Lady Hero and Ursula conversing in the orchard about you and Lord Benedick." I send her off with severe reprimand, but though her ploy is all too obvious I am more than happy to play into my dear friends' hands. I am a moth drawn to flame - entirely conscious of the danger and yet unable to stay away!

Hero and her old nurse, Ursula, are indeed walking in the orchard - and such things they have to say!

Ursula's voice is the first I am able to discern clearly, but even so I am not sure I hear her aright. "But are you sure that Beatrice loves Benedick so entirely?"

But no, Hero confirms it! And she has witnesses! "So says the Prince and my new-trothèd lord."

But why, why has no one said anything of this before? Why hasn't _he_ said anything of this before? "Nature never framed a woman's heart of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice," says my cousin. "Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, misprizing what they look on, and her wit values itself so highly that to her all matter else seems weak." Now this is unbecoming of you, Hero - never have I heard such harsh censure from your lips in all our days as bosom-friends. "I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, But she would spell him backward." Ah, 'tis true, my friend, and yet that 'twould be because none are Benedick. "Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. It were a better death than die with mockery."

What have I done? I care nothing for Hero's scorn, for quite clearly these words are not her own and someone has put her to this mischief. But her words ring truth despite their false origins - I have laid nothing but censure upon Benedick for many this long month. I have oft repented in the dark of morning of such barbs as I have unendingly sent his way, though never would I have stooped to begging his apology before he begged one of me. But has he loved as I have loved? Have we been at cross-purposes this entire time?

Oh, Benedick, if you loved me, how willingly my wild heart would be tamed to matrimony! Hero and Ursula speak your praises, and how much more do I think you worthy of acclaim than they! Show me that my love is requited, and see how quickly my heart will be tuned to sing your praise!


	10. Act III: Scene ii - Benedick

Act III: Scene ii (Benedick)

Location - Messina, A room in Leonato's House

It is evident in the way my prince and Claudio tease me most mercilessly that they suspect the reason for my change in demeanor. I protest it is but a toothache, but indeed, how could they not? Is it not a wonder that I cannot hide the joy that bursts from a heart I had thought long cold - for Beatrice loves me! The part of coarse and hardy soldier has been but one I played to hide from all the softness of my soul. What need have I for beards and slovenliness, which Beatrice hath ever abhorred, when my angel needs no provoking to turn her divine eye towards me once again? They may poke and prod at me all they like, and point out the hypocrisy of my ways, but their jesting only heaps fuel upon the fires of hope that blaze in my heart. Claudio is a fool in love, but even fools speak truth. And every effort my prince makes to enkindle passion betwixt Beatrice and I betrays his conviction that Beatrice will have none of him. Were I not so abysmal a troubadour I would sing a ballad in his honor.

They congratulate themselves heartily even in my hearing for their cleverness, which does beg the question of their sanity. I draw good Leonato away from their company to discuss dear Beatrice's prospects - 'tis not the first time we have so conversed, and I can only hope that this time good Leonato's blessing will serve me better than it did before. I would marry my darling girl if she were a pauper on the street with naught but her good name to her, and indeed, 'twould be a good deal easier if she were. Joining together the properties of a lord and a lord's daughter, impoverished though she be, is hardly the stuff of romance, but I would not do my lady the dishonor of wooing her by proxy.

I see when I return to the courtyard that my prince and Claudio are conversing raptly with that scurrilous bastard, Don John. Their demeanors are more serious than I have seen since we were about to take to the field of battle, and I wonder whether Don John is making mischief.


	11. Act III: Scene iv - Beatrice

Act III: Scene iv (Beatrice)

Location: Messina - Hero's Apartment

Fortune has always smiled upon my cousin. When she smiled, the world laughed. When she danced, the world sang. It was fitting, then, that the day of her wedding was perfectly glorious. Every blasted bird in the countryside seemed to have gathered under our window to serenade her as rosy-fingered dawn crept over the misty horizon and bathed fair Hero's milk-white cheeks and riotous curls in angelic golden rays. She flitted about the house like some unearthly sprite, radiating happiness as she donned raiment fit for a queen. I sat in a shadowy corner, snuffling like a foraging boar, wishing for nothing more than to return to the comfort of mine own bed.

I was quite content to wallow in mine own misery until Hero's maid Margaret startled me with some nonsense about distilled Carduus Benedictus. From her rambling speech about how "you _are_ in love or that you _will_ be in love or that you _can_ be in love" I gather that my feigned illness has fooled no one. Indeed, I have caught no fleeting illness but love, and sleep has fled from me in rebuke. My dreams were filled with naught but Benedick, and after many a wakeful hour Hero's very breaths seemed to reproach me with her happiness. I deserted my couch to seek solitude under the stars, and thought this indeed I found solitude brought me no peace.

But now I must a-fix a smile to my unwilling features and keep my thoughts to myself. Today is for celebrating the birth of mine cousin's new life, and I would not for all the world mar her happiness with my own silliness. Ursula announces that "all the gallants of the town" are come to fetch us to the church and indeed I hear the sounds of a raucous procession approaching. I behold the prince in all his splendor leading the way, and Claudio close behind drawn taught with nerves. And there…O, God help me! What has become of Benedick's beard?


	12. Act IV: Scene i - Benedick

AN: Apologies for the long delay. This scene simply refused to be written! Thanks for sticking around!

Act IV: Scene 1 (Benedick)

Location: Messina, the village church

Many a brave man I have seen turn into the most pathetic coward on his wedding day, but even so Claudio's demeanor as we departed for the church was most perplexing. It seemed most strange that a man whose inability to refrain from smiling ridiculously over mere trifles, whose levity even in the face of certain destruction, has driven me to despair should go to meet his bride with the air of one sentenced to the gallows. It seemed a strange reversal for Claudio to stand aloof from the raucous crowd, his expression as starched as his uniform, while I laughed jovially at my Prince's ribbing of his officious brother and bantered with the blushing bride. Even stranger was Claudio's determined perversity as they stood before the altar, which good Leontes attempts to smooth over only made more apparent. Bewildered as I was, my one attempt to remind Claudio of his breeding fell upon deaf ears, and I could only watch, horrified and transfixed, as a scene unfolded before my eyes of the most grotesque sort.

When I came to my senses, it was to see Beatrice clutching her swooning cousin protectively to her chest and Leontes wailing in despair at his daughter's shame. Claudio and the Prince were nowhere to be seen, and my rage at their cowardice knew no bounds. Had he suspicions of dishonor, Claudio should have made them known to her father in private - by his and my Prince's public display my friend had shamed us all. And I had been left to pick up the shattered remains of mine own honor. My heart was sore at the very thought of the poor thanks good Leontes had been given for his hospitality, but it was cut to the quick at the look of utter betrayal in Beatrice's eyes as she looked up at me and pleaded of Hero's innocence. Oh, dearest girl, how could you ever think I would conspire to harm you so? That I would not believe you as you protest your cousin's innocence? Hero may not have one-tenth your favor in my eyes, but anyone with even a fool's sense could see she could not act the wanton if she tried.

The friar concocts some plan to hide Hero away and proclaim her dead until her innocence be proven, and I am all in favor of it, for I would see Claudio suffer the all the agonies his conscience could procure. Leontes looks to me for guidance, and for all that I am sorry for the circumstances I am pleased to be able to return Leontes' many kindnesses to me over these long years by offering him counsel and aid. And suddenly they are all gone, and the church is empty save for one figure huddled in the far corner near the statue of some saint. It is Beatrice, and she seems unaware of my presence as the anger which has given her strength suddenly gives way to despair and she collapses to the ground.

I am at her side in an instant - for where else in this world would I rather be? She is brittle and delicate in my arms as she cries over her cousin's lost honor, and in my desperation to comfort her the words I had kept so tightly bound up inside burst forth…

"I do love nothing in the world so much as you," I hear myself say, in wonder both at the truth of my words and at mine own voicing them. I cannot help but laugh at myself. "Is that not strange?"

Beatrice agrees, and then words tumble from her lips in a strange cacophony of contradictions that belies her own turmoil. But from the rubble I pick a gem…"It were as possible for me to say I lov'd nothing so well as you."

And suddenly the world is bright and radiant. My soul is afire with joy such that my body cannot remain still - I sweep Beatrice around in a glorious dance where the world fades away and only we two remain. This beautiful, delightful, glorious woman loves me, utterly unworthy of that affection though I be. How can I prove my desire to deserve her?

"Kill Claudio."

And the world screeches wildly to a halt once again. I am becoming stupid from the way my poor spirit has been tormented and tossed about these last days, hours, moments! I stare at Beatrice as though in a trance - surely, such terrible words did not just fall from the lips I just reverently kissed! But no, she is in earnest, and will not be dissuaded from demanding honorable satisfaction from the man who has so wronged her cousin. She bewails that she is not a man and challenge him herself - ah, but darling, if you were a man I would not love you so! But since I do, I will act as your champion and demand an account from Claudio, will stand against my brother in arms. I only pray that God give me strength enough for the task, for 'twill be no easy thing to go 'gainst a man so dear a friend.


End file.
